


Gone But Not Forgotten

by Setcheti



Series: Ghostbusters: The M7 Version [4]
Category: Ghostbusters - All Media Types, The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Death, Gen, Mild Gore, September 11 Attacks, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All seven Ghostbusters had slept in that morning. They woke up to a completely different world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone But Not Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> For additional warnings regarding this story arc, see author's note on [Just Another Afternoon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3815296).

It had been a long day and an even longer night for the seven Ghostbusters, and for once even Vin and Josiah slept long into the next morning.  Around nine o’clock, however, the bunkroom slowly began to come alive.  Buck rolled out of bed with a groan and grinned when he realized he had a chance to be the first one in the shower; his triumphant rendition of the Pokemon Johto League theme as he took off down the hall had the effect of rousing the rest of the team with groans of their own.  “Dammit, JD, you just had to get him hooked on that damned cartoon, didn’t you?” Chris groused. 

“Think I liked it better when he sang country western,” Vin agreed, sitting up and stretching.  He watched lazily as Nathan got out of bed and started doing calisthenics.  “Aw Nate, just skip it this morning, would ya?  Just seein’ you do that is makin’ me tired.” 

“Wouldn’t be if you’d get your lazy butt up out of bed and join me,” the biophysicist countered.  “You’d all feel a lot better if you’d…” 

“Shut up, Nathan,” Josiah rumbled without heat from the depths of his pillow. 

“Just because you see fit to torture yourself each morning does not mean the rest of us need engage in similar masochistic pursuits,” Ezra observed, rolling over and fixing a sleepy green eye on the standing man.  “And since you are so full of energy this morning, perhaps you should be the one to make the coffee.” 

That idea was enthusiastically seconded by the others, but before Nathan could do more than splutter indignantly the spirited song echoing out of the bathroom was replaced by indignant cursing and Buck came stamping back into the bunkroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.  “Hey, someone go down and check the mains, we ain’t got no water!” 

“What do you mean, no water?” Chris demanded, sitting up himself.  “Dammit, I paid that bill…” 

“Not like that,” the engineer assured him.  “Pipes didn’t pop when I tried to turn on the shower, they would have if we’d been cut off.  I’m more worried we’ve got a big ol’ leak someplace…like the basement.” 

Five sets of bare feet hit the worn wooden floor; the containment unit was in the basement. 

 

Less than five minutes later seven men in various states of undress and equal levels of panic were standing in the basement – thankfully on a dry floor.  But the moments earlier fear of a broken pipe had been supplanted by utter horror at the sight of the electrically dead containment unit.  They were looking at it with flashlights, no less, the electricity all over the firehouse apparently having gone wherever the water had.  “This can’t be,” JD said, shaking his head.  “I’ve done the calculations a hundred times, this thing should have blown sky high by now.  Even a semi-controlled containment breach would probably take the roof off the building…” 

“Most likely the top two floors too, at this point,” Buck agreed.  He’d traded his towel for a pair of sweats and then slid down the firepole to catch up with the others.  “Boys, I don’t like this one little bit.” 

“I’d say that feeling is unanimous,” Ezra drawled.  He checked the gray-noise generator at his hip again, infinitely reassured by the pale green glow from its LED display that showed him it was still almost fully charged.  “Perhaps we should attire ourselves more appropriately and investigate the situation.” 

“Yeah.”  Chris splashed his flashlight beam around the basement one last time before stalking back up the stairs.  He stopped at Nettie’s desk and tried the phone.  The fact that it was dead didn’t really surprise him.  “All right, everyone back upstairs.  We’ll get dressed and eat something and then we’ll see what’s up.” 

Half and hour later he was unlocking the triple deadbolts that secured their front door against the bad elements that inhabited the rough neighborhood they lived in, but when he pulled the steel door open he was greeted by what looked like an abandoned street.  Cautiously he stepped outside, followed by the other six men, and looked around in confusion.  The city was silent.  No horns honking, no engines running…no people at all to be seen, and the streets were empty.  Ezra looked around, and then slowly reached up and detached his headset, waving away the hands that tried to stop him.  His green eyes widened.  “They’re…they’re _gone_.  I can’t hear anything, anything at all.” 

Chris frowned.  “So we know everyone’s not dead, that’s something.  Keep your unit handy though, Ezra, just in case.  And I think we should suit up and get the packs before we go any farther.” 

“If they’re still workin’,” Buck said unhappily.  “The meters might or might not be either, we should probably check everything before we leave.”  He darted back inside and reappeared a few minutes later with a PKE meter.  The indicators were lit up, but the needle on its colored gauge was flat and still.  Buck slapped the side of it a few times and changed some settings but the needle never moved and he finally shook his head.  “Nope, it’s got power but it’s not pickin’ anything up – not even us.  These aren’t gonna do us any good.” 

“Lucky thing Ezra’s here, then,” Vin observed.  He was frowning too.  “I don’t think it would be a good idea to test the packs, though, not until we know exactly what’s goin’ on.  What could cause somethin’ like this?” 

JD had taken the non-functioning meter from Buck and was tinkering with it but getting no more results than the engineer had.  “At first I thought it might have something to do with…with what happened a year ago,” he said, stammering a bit and not looking at Ezra.  “But that anniversary was weeks ago.” 

The psychologist sighed; his associates still tended to tiptoe around the subject of September 11when he was around.  “It had occurred to me that the two events might somehow be connected as well,” he offered evenly.  “ But as you say, the dates do not match.  And that still would not explain why New York City seems to be empty of souls living or dead save ourselves.  That fact would make this being something aimed directly at the seven of us seem a distinct possibility, to my mind.” 

“If we’re even in the real city,” was Vin’s comment.  “If this is a setup, we could be playing on someone else’s turf right now and just not realize it.” 

“Or something could be manipulating our perceptions.”  Ezra didn’t look at all happy to have mentioned that idea, and no one else looked happy to have heard it.  “Which would be a very persuasive argument for Mr. Tanner’s suggestion that we not test the proton packs.  But if this…emptiness is merely an illusion, I will most likely be the first to realize it.” 

Nathan shot him an alarmed look, but Chris spoke up before the biophysicist could say anything.  “Either way, all that means is someone or something is going to an awful lot of trouble to get our attention,” he mused.  “There has to be something here we’re missing.  Does anyone remember if something happened right around _now_ a year ago?” 

For a few long moments no one spoke, and then Josiah sucked in a sharp breath that brought everyone’s head up.  “Now I remember – today is an anniversary, brothers.”  His light blue eyes went bleak.  “I remember, I was down at the mission when they announced it; I believe it was today that they…that they called off the search for survivors at ground zero.” 

The men all looked at each other.  “Angry ghosts?” Buck put forward. 

 “There were plenty of those,” Ezra concurred.  “But I certainly don’t hear any of them now.  Could some sort of magick be involved, perhaps something entered into by an angry relation of one of the deceased to exact revenge?” 

“It’s possible,” Josiah said, but he was shaking his head.  “But a spell that could do something like this would almost certainly require a summoning, a higher level spirit if not an archdemon, and it would have lit up every sensor we had coming in.  I don’t think we’re dealing with magick.” 

“Well something had to do this,” Chris stated.  “And we have to find out what it was and get rid of it.  Okay, leave the meters, take the packs but don’t activate them, and Josiah you bring your kit just in case and Vin, I want you to bring your rifle for the same reason.  We don’t know if this phenomenon is just local or if it really is the whole city so I’d say the first order of business is to go for a little walk around town.” 

 

If just stepping outside the firehouse into the silent street had been eerie, walking down the empty streets was downright frightening.  No lights or sounds came from the buildings they passed, it was like wandering through a gigantic ghost town – only minus the ghosts.  There were no signs of disarray anywhere, no wrecks or broken windows or signs of fire, no bodies or blood trails.  A few blocks from the firehouse they passed one of the back street entrances to Chinatown and spotted an overturned rickshaw lying abandoned half on and half off a sidewalk, the only sign so far that there had ever been people in the area. 

They had gone less than half a block past it when JD suddenly stopped and looked back.  “Hold on a minute, guys, something isn’t right here.” 

As one the other men turned to look back the way they’d come.  Vin shrugged.  “I don’t see anything.” 

“Yes, you do – you just don’t realize it,” Ezra said suddenly.  He stepped up beside JD and squinted back down the street.  “That vehicle we just passed…” 

“It’s a rickshaw, so?”  Chris demanded irritably.  “There must be hundreds of the damn things down here…” 

“But there _aren’t_ , don’t you see?” JD interrupted him excitedly.  “That’s what’s fishy about it!  There _should_ be lots of them down here, but there should also be cars and bikes all over the place and these streets are empty…” 

“Except for a single rickshaw.”  Josiah had caught on.  “It can’t be a coincidence, brothers.” 

“It could be a sign that we’re in the right place,” Ezra agreed.  “Or it could be a trap of some sort, a play on our curiosity.”  He took another step forward and shut his eyes, listening…and after a long moment opened them again and shook his head.  “Nothing.  It’s still as silent as a grave.” 

Buck essayed a shudder that was only partially faked.  “Bad word choice there, Ez.” 

“A step to one side,” Vin said suddenly.  Everyone stared at him, uncomprehending, and he blushed.  “Maybe we went somewhere but we didn’t, that’s what I mean; not forward or backward, just a step to the side.  I was thinking about something the professor in class said last week about alternate universes.”  He ignored Nathan’s snort.  “The theory is that some of them could be so close to us that it would only take a very minor shift in space/time to step into one…” 

“Or a relatively minor alteration of perception,” Ezra concurred, nodding and looking around.  “So by your theory, it is possible the rickshaw is here because the rickshaw driver was also shifted and carried his vehicle along with him.” 

“Which could mean he had something to do with it,” Chris said.  “So if we can find him we can find out what’s going on and fix it.  I guess that mean’s we’ve just narrowed our search to Chinatown, then.” 

 

If the main streets had been unnerving in their emptiness, the barren streets of Chinatown were downright eerie; it was a section of the city that didn’t look like the rest of New York to begin with, its streets narrow and it’s buildings alien, signs bearing beautiful but unreadable characters and strange, stylized images staring down at them as though defying translation.  When the inhabitants were in residence the babble of dialects was broken just often enough by a spate of English to reassure the hearer he was still in his own country, but in the absence of that it was easy to lose one’s sense of place.   The feeling only reinforced the jumpiness of the seven Ghostbusters as they prowled slowly through the district looking for any sign of the rickshaw driver who hopefully was the key to their mystery. 

It took a while – about two hours as Vin reckoned it for them using the position of the sun since no one’s watch was working either – but finally Nathan spotted something glittering on the narrow sidewalk and called loudly for the others, the sound of his own voice echoing in the empty air making him wince.  He stopped JD, Chris and Buck from trying to pick up the fallen necklace, though.  “Unless one of you knows what that symbol means, I think we should wait for Josiah before anyone touches the thing,” he cautioned. 

Josiah came panting up with Ezra right behind him a few moments later.  “Didn’t hear you, Nate,” he apologized.  “I was in kind of a dead area, Ezra came and got me.”  He looked down at the necklace, walked around it and then squatted down beside it.  Finally he scooped it up in his hand and stood again.  “I think this is a protective charm,” he said.  “This is the symbol for Chang Tao Ling, Taoist god of the afterlife.” 

“So what was it supposed to be protection against?” Chris asked.  “And why isn’t whoever it was still wearing it?” 

“He might have thought it wasn’t working or wasn’t necessary anymore,” Josiah answered. 

“It looks like the chain was ripped off his neck,” Vin added, pointing at the dangling ends.  “Could have torn it off himself, or someone else could have done it.” 

“I’d guess that he did it himself,” Ezra observed.  “Had someone else removed it against the owner’s will, no doubt he would have pursued that person in an attempt to retrieve it – see how the metal is worn in spite of the fact that it appears fairly new?  This is probably the latest in a long line of such talismans, worn continuously until they break and then replaced with another.  You can even see a bit of soap residue there on the edge, indicating that it was not even removed for bathing purposes.” 

Josiah broke back into the discussion.  “Chang Tao Ling was also head of the heavenly Ministry of Exorcism, brothers,” he rumbled.  “This could explain why we’re still here, and why the containment unit is still intact even without power; the Ministry was said to keep exorcised spirits in jars in the basement of their temple.” 

“So this guy may have figured we were just his kind of people and left us alone,” Buck snorted, shaking his head.  “Was he dangerous, Josiah?” 

“Well, he’s usually depicted as a warrior brandishing a sword riding on the back of a tiger,” the ex-priest shrugged.  “And he supposedly defeated five poisonous animals and then created the elixir of life from their venom and drank it to ascend to heaven.  I wouldn’t have said he’d be dangerous to anyone who wasn’t possessed, though.” 

Chris’ eyes narrowed.  “You think this rickshaw driver may have been possessed?” 

“I wouldn’t think it likely, but again it’s possible.”  Josiah shrugged again.  “We have so many spirits in residence in New York now; the ones that were already here, the ones created last September and the ones that have been drawn here by the strong presence of the mass over the city, so it’s hard to guess what we could be dealing with in that department.  But I agree with Ezra, the condition of the charm would suggest that the wearer was seriously committed to his beliefs so something extraordinary must have happened for him to rip it off and throw it away.” 

“We’ll just have to find him and ask him then, won’t we?”  Vin had been looking at the dirty sidewalk, going over in his mind the way the broken chain had lay.  “I think he went down that way,” he said, pointing.  “We should be lookin’ for a door standing open or something like that, this guy was in a hurry to get somewhere.” 

“Let’s get looking, then,” Chris ordered.  This time the seven Ghostbusters stayed together, but luckily their suspect hadn’t gone far; an open door in a nearby alley led them down a narrow dark hallway to another open door, this one leading into a tiny two-room apartment that smelled nauseatingly  of old cooking and incense.  Dilapidated furniture, part Asian, part dumpster-discovery crowded the cramped space, and against one wall sat a box mostly covered by a of  dingy piece of Chinese brocade and topped with burning candles and incense in holders of cheap polished brass.  A faded lithograph of an armored warrior riding a tiger sat in the center and lined up neatly in front of it were five small statues representing a scorpion, a snake, a centipede, a spider and a toad, each one marked with a character that had obviously been painted on with blood.  Offerings of rice and wine and other tidbits were laid out in front of it all along with a scattering of coins and what looked like an assortment of small rocks which had also been dotted with rusty dark blood. 

It was obviously an altar, and Josiah stepped to the forefront with a frown.  “What religion is that, Josiah?” Chris asked impatiently when the older man didn’t say anything.  “Looks kind of like Santeria…” 

“This isn’t Santeria,” the ex-priest said immediately, going down on one knee for a closer look, careful not to touch anything.  “There are similar elements, yes, but what we’re seeing here is something…different but the same.  See, that picture is of Chang Tao Ling, just like the charm we found.” 

“I believe what Mr. Sanchez is trying to say is that we may have just stumbled onto a heretofore undocumented syncretic religion,” Ezra elaborated.  “Chinatown being something of a closed society, it is not surprising no one has ever seen this except the practitioners themselves.” 

“Syncre-what?” Nathan wanted to know. 

“The bastard offspring of native religion and overzealous missionaries,” Josiah answered heavily, getting back to his feet but not taking his eyes off the altar.  “The indigenous people threatened by the Church ‘convert’ enough to mollify those in power and then keep their own beliefs alive by submerging them beneath the trappings of Catholicism, disguising gods as saints and adapting sympathetic magic to the new symbolism.  The most commonly known ones are based on African and South American beliefs, it looks like this one has its roots in China.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” Chris asked him.  “Santeria and Voodoun are usually pretty innocuous but they have their dangerous sides…” 

“We may be seeing the dark side of this religion, yes,” Ezra said distractedly before Josiah could open his mouth.  “The purportedly vanquished animals are in a position to receive the offerings, not positioned as offerings themselves.  And they have each been marked with a symbol in blood, not simply splattered with it.”  He rubbed his temple with one hand, frowning.  “Gentlemen, have any of you noticed that the candle flames are not melting any wax?” 

As if on cue the steady yellow flames flickered and flared green, shooting up toward the ceiling but having no visible effect on the cracked plaster.  The Ghostbusters backpedaled as far as they could in the small space, instinctively pulling out their throwers and switching them on… 

…And nothing happened.  The seven men looked at each other in dismay as the small statues began to twitch and grow, and Buck quipped, “Well, it looks like this one’s gonna be a bit of a challenge.  Go get ‘em, Chris, we’ll be right behind you.” 

“I’m open for suggestions,” Chris shot back, not taking his eyes off the five loathsome creatures swelling in front of him, their jaws, stings and/or fangs dripping venom that hissed and smoked when it made contact with the floor.  “Or I guess I could just order _you_ to get them, couldn’t I?”   

Just when he was about to start ordering everyone to get out of the room, though, the monsters began to clamber up onto each other instead of attacking.  They twisted and writhed and wrapped around and over each other until they were stacked and wrapped into a tall heap, and then they began to sink into each other, the individual outlines shifting and blurring and changing…until the warrior-priest from the altar stood there, sword in hand.  “Why do you disturb the temple of Chang Tao Ling?” he demanded hollowly.  “Be grateful I have spared you and begone.” 

The seven men looked at each other.  “What did you do to the city?” Chris countered.  “Where are all the people?” 

“They were noisy; I moved them aside where their lack of harmony would not disturb me.”  He looked over the men and gestured regally at Ezra.  “This one surely appreciates the silence.” 

“The din they make is preferable to the silence of a barren, empty city,” Ezra replied.  He cocked his head.  “Did the rickshaw driver summon you?” 

“It was not me he summoned,” was the surprising answer.  “He desired the elixir of life.” 

“He was summoning the five poisonous beasts to get the venom, then,” Josiah murmured, a sad look crossing his face.  “And did he receive it?” 

“He received what he asked, although not what he wanted.”  The spirit gestured again, and a door they had rightly guessed led to the bathroom flew open…to reveal the corpse of a Chinese man of indeterminate age, his face and limbs contorted by agony and greenish-blue slime dripping from his burned and blistered mouth.  “The easy path to heaven was not so easy as he had hoped.  He was unworthy.” 

“You have to defeat the beasts, not just steal their venom,” Josiah explained to the others in an undertone.  “If you ‘earn’ the venom it won’t harm you.” 

“I’d say this guy didn’t earn it, then,” Buck said, doing his best to force down the bile that had risen in his throat at the gruesome sight; the others were doing the same.  “So now what?” 

It was the spirit who answered him.  “Now you leave my temple,” he boomed.  “I have answered your impertinent questions but I am weary of you now.  I am the god of this world and I command you to leave me and go about your business.  Be grateful I have spared you and depart.” 

And with that he disappeared and the candle flames shrank back down to small yellow flickers.  “We probably ought to do as he says, for the moment,” Chris said thoughtfully, nodding his thanks when Buck hurried across the room to slam shut the bathroom door; everyone relaxed slightly once the gaping corpse was hidden from view.  “Sounds like you were right though, Vin; he just moved everyone a step to one side.  We’ll have to figure something out, but at least there’s only one of him…” 

There was a murmur of agreement, through which Ezra’s decisive ‘No’ cut like a hot knife through butter.  Everyone stared at the psychologist in surprise, but he didn’t back down.  “No,” Ezra insisted.  “There isn’t just one.  There are five spirits here and none of them are Chinese.” 

Josiah stepped closer to Ezra.  “You can hear them?” 

“Vaguely,” was the answer.  “Like a reverberation in the voice of the ‘god’ we were just speaking with, and now the merest of whispers here and there.  I can feel such a mix of emotions from them, though – I even sensed a trace of regret for the rickshaw driver’s demise.  I don’t think they meant to kill him.” 

“They…?”  Larabee scowled.  “The ‘five poisonous beasts’?” 

“That would make sense,” Josiah rumbled, nodding.  “If they aren’t Chinese they might not have known that they couldn’t just give him the venom – but _he_ knew, on some level, and so it killed him.”  He scratched his head, puzzled.  “But I have to wonder why he was out in the street working the rickshaw if he was waiting for them to come to him…” 

“I wonder…”  Before anyone could stop him JD had gone back to the bathroom and opened the door, although not all the way.  He stuck his proton rifle inside, poking at something, and then withdrew it and shut the door again.  His face was green but triumphant.  “The charm we found out in the street, it burned him – there’s a round burn mark on his chest.  That must be how he knew something was happening, and why he ripped it off.”     

“Good thinking, JD,” Vin approved.  “So if they aren’t Chinese, what are they and why are they here?” 

“And what are we gonna do about them without our throwers?” Buck added. 

Josiah sighed, and Chris shook his head.  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to ask some more ‘impertinent questions’, so it looks like we’ll be sticking around here until they come back… 

“They never left,” Ezra interrupted softly.  “They’ve been listening to our every word.”  The air rustled in confirmation, and he took a step away from the other Ghostbusters and focused on the empty space above the altar.  “The man who built this altar, he isn’t here with you.  Did his spirit disperse?” 

_No_ , all the voices answered together but not completely in harmony with each other.  _The mass…_

Ezra shook his head.  “We’ve been worried that might happen, that the pull it exerts might suck in spirits who are merely passing by – or attempting to pass on.  You sound upset about it.” 

_The mass_ … they said again.  _Pulling…pulling.  Always the pull…even with the altar…_

“So that’s it,” Josiah exclaimed softly, resisting the urge to snap his fingers.  “Spirits, did you come from the mass?  Did you break away only to be trapped by the altar?” 

_NOOOO!_   It was a howl of rage, followed by a babble of denials.  _Left us…killed us…broke away together…angry…our choice to stop…just for us…revenge…_ _revenge_ _…REVENGE!_

Ezra didn’t back down from the angry roar.  “Who left you, killed you?  I would have thought you came from the Trade Center like most of the others…” 

“The anniversary,” Josiah said, looking stricken.  “Today…the day they called off the rescue teams.  Were you still alive, spirits, somewhere in the rubble?” 

_YES YES YES…abandoned…left us…others there…told us…abandoned…left to die…_

“The ‘others’, they were speaking to you, you could see them, touch them?” Ezra asked gently.  A scattered murmur of affirmatives answered him and he shook his head.  “My friends, don’t you see…you were not abandoned.  No one spotted you in the wreckage and left you to die, none of our instruments alerted us to your presence and were ignored.  Your ‘others’ were ghosts, you were already dead.”  The resultant howl of denial and outrage blew around the seven men like an angry wind, and the psychologist had to almost shout to be heard over it.  “No, listen to me, I can prove it!  Show yourselves and I will be able to tell what killed you.” 

The Chinese priest appeared again, floating just where Ezra had been looking and brandishing his sword threateningly.  “It is no longer important; we are the Five Poisonous Beasts who merge to become Chang Tao Ling!  And you seek to trick us, Ghostbuster.” 

“No, I don’t,” the psychologist insisted.  “And you are not Chang Tao Ling, you are not a god!  The poor fool you killed pulled you together and gave you this form with his faith, remade you in the image of his mythology.  Think!  He was poor and superstitious, a rickshaw driver for god’s sake, working the streets of Chinatown for next to nothing; you were, you _are_ , New Yorkers, you surely remember encountering his kind before.  He built this crude altar and summoned monsters to come save him from his fear, to elevate him above his wretched, lonesome existence and put him on a level with the gods themselves.”  Ezra spread out his hands in a non-threatening gesture.  “And what harm could I possibly do to you?  Our weapons don’t work, and I’ve put mine away anyway.  Just show me; if I am wrong you’ve lost nothing, risked nothing, but should I be right perhaps we can see you released from this delusion you’ve become enmeshed in.” 

Dead silence – very dead, and too silent.  Then the armored form of the Chinese priest flickered and fractured, splitting apart like a broken puzzle, and as their connection was lost each piece slowly shifted back from animal shape to its original form.  Soon five human spirits stood in front of the altar, every dead, angry eye fixed on the psychologist.  “Tell me they didn’t leave me behind to die,” demanded one, a heavyset man who didn’t appear to have a mark on him.  “I was pinned, yeah, but I could feel cool air on my skin and in my lungs, I knew I wasn’t really buried alive even though I couldn’t see anything.” 

Ezra stepped closer to the angry spirit, much to the dismay of the other Ghostbusters and the surprise of the spirit himself.  He scrutinized the man and then shook his head.  “That was not air, sir, it was water, most likely from a broken main.  You were doubtless not conscious enough to experience the panic and discomfort that normally accompanies drowning, but you felt the pleasant coolness of the water and interpreted that sensation as a reassuring nearness to freedom.  You died practically painlessly, it is no wonder that you failed to realize it had happened.”  He moved on to the next spirit without waiting to be asked.  “You bled to death, it looks like an artery was torn.  The two of you beside her were together, correct?”  Two nods accompanied by two surprised looks.  “Asphyxiation, gentlemen, probably a gas line rupture – again, painless and quick.  And you…”  He had reached the last man, and to the surprise of the other Ghostbusters Ezra scowled at the first four ghosts and scolded, “You should have told him, even death is no excuse for perpetuating this sort of self-delusion.” 

“Should have told me what?!”  The man was young and dressed like a stockbroker, and in any other situation the look on his face might have been comical.  “What was there to tell, there isn’t a mark on me either, my suit didn’t even get torn!”  He folded his arms across his chest stubbornly.  “And I know for a fact that I wasn’t in the water, or near any gas lines.” 

“It wouldn’t have mattered if you were,” Ezra replied.  He glared again and the other ghosts, and after some shuffling around the heavyset man sighed and shook his head.  “Didn’t think he needed to know, we didn’t mind him being with us…” 

“He most certainly does need to know,” the psychologist countered immediately.  “And you, sir, are going to tell him; I will not do your dirty work for you.” 

The ghost sighed again, looking ashamed of himself.  “All right, all right.  Kid, you…”  He grimaced at the impatient look on the younger ghost’s face.  “Whatever did it made a damn neat job of it, never seen anything like that.  Didn’t you ever wonder why we told you not to worry about your hair, told you just to forget it?” 

“Well I _am_ dead,” the stockbroker retorted sarcastically.  “I believe someone,” he frowned at the woman, “made mention of the fact that vanity is more than a little ludicrous in our situation.  So what…”  He reached up to pat at his hair, sliding his hand back…and then he stopped, and his eyes widened.  Gingerly he felt around where the back of his skull should have been.  “There’s…there’s nothing there!” 

“Yep, like I said, neat as you please,” the older ghost told him with a shrug.  “Can’t really tell that much from the front, though.” 

The stockbroker nodded, still feeling around.  “Nothing,” he murmured.  “Nothing at all, it all must have fallen out.  How empty-headed of me not to notice.”  He suddenly realized what he’d just said and giggled, then started to laugh good-naturedly.  “Empty-headed would about be it, wouldn’t it!” 

The other ghosts as well as the stunned Ghostbusters saw the humor in the situation as well and started to laugh as well, and then to everyone’s surprise the stockbroker started to glow and then faded out with a broad grin on his face.  “Hey, what happened, what did you do to him!”  The older ghost demanded of Ezra.  “You said…” 

“ _I_ didn’t do a thing,” Ezra corrected, smiling.  “He dispersed on his own, he’s free now.  And once the rest of you let go of your anger, you will disperse as well.” 

The woman looked unsure.  “But the mass…” 

“Isn’t here, ma’am,” Vin told her.  “You all moved everything over a step, remember?  He went straight home like he was supposed to, and you will too.  Ain’t you ready to get out of this place?”  She smiled, nodded…glowed.  Vin grinned and waved when she disappeared.  “Two down, three to go.  Who’s next, boys?” 

That was apparently all the encouragement the two men who had died together needed; they glowed, high-fived each other, and vanished.  The remaining ghost snorted.  “Damn, you boys are good – I always thought you just blasted every ghost you saw into next week.” 

“Not the Class Fours,” JD informed him seriously, and then when the ghost cocked his head in puzzlement amended, “The ones that are people.  We only bust those if they hurt someone.” 

The heavyset man glanced toward the bathroom, regret on his face.  “Not like that, Brother,” Josiah rumbled gently.  “You tried to give him what he wanted, you had no way of knowing what would happen once he had it.” 

“He said…”  The ghost kicked at the floor with one foot, frowning.  “Was kind of hard to understand him part of the time, but what we all got was that he wanted to become a god so he could undo it all, make it all go away, punish the people responsible – it was as much what he felt as what he said.  Got the idea that he lost somebody there and didn’t think they tried to hard to get her out, and since that was pretty much the way all of us were feeling we let whatever it was he was doing here reel us in, we just went along with it.”  He lifted tormented eyes up to meet Ezra’s.  “If we hadn’t screwed up, if he could have _fixed_ it…” 

“Nothing can fix it.”  The words were flat and final, but there was a wealth of sympathy in Chris’ voice.  “Once something’s done it’s done, ain’t no going back.  You just have to keep on living in spite of it.”  He made a face, embarrassed, when he realized what he’d said.  “Well, you know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, actually I do.”  The ghost smiled.  “You’re pretty good guys, you know that?  Not like I’d expected.”  He looked a little startled when he started to glow, and then his grin widened.  “You do good work, too.  Sorry for all the trouble we caused.” 

“Made for an interesting day, anyway,” Buck told him, waving off the apology.  “You have a good trip, now.” 

“We’ll see, I guess – I’ll tell you the next time I see you!”  And with a wave, he was gone. 

A distant roar like that of a huge wave approaching filled the air, growing louder, bearing down on them.  Nathan and Josiah both leaped for Ezra and helped him reattach his gray noise generator and turn it on as the walls of the room rippled, and then rippled again…and then the wave broke over them and became the ever-present din of a crowded, busy city.  Ezra cautiously pulled out one of his earpieces and then quickly put it back in.  “They’re back.” 

“Most of them, anyway.”  Josiah frowned down at the altar, seeing that the candles were now nothing but cold puddles of congealed wax and the incense nothing but ash.  He leaned over and plucked one of the spotted rocks out of the mess and held it up to his eyes, then shook his head.  “Concrete, I bet he got it from the rubble.  Sympathetic magic that worked a bit too well.” 

Everyone pointedly avoided looking toward the bathroom.  Buck pulled out the PKE meter and turned it on, grinning when it immediately lit up and indicated nothing but residuals left in the room.  “All gone now.  We need to do anything about the rest of this stuff before we get out of here and call the cops, Josiah?” 

The ex-preacher shrugged and tossed the little chunk of concrete back onto the altar.  “No, it’s over.  Once the practitioner is dead and the spirits are gone, all it is is a mess.  The police will most likely have an interesting time going over it, though.” 

Chris snorted.  “They can have it.”  He looked thoughtful, though.  “You know boys, maybe we’ve been going about this the wrong way this past year.  We can’t bust all the ghosts in the mass, and it isn’t going away by itself like we’d hoped – if anything, it’s getting bigger.  But what if we could figure out a way to encourage some of these spirits to disperse?” 

“Quite a few did during the memorial service earlier this month,” Ezra agreed.  He cocked an eyebrow at Larabee.  “Perhaps if we could isolate small groups of them with the containment beams, we might be able to talk them into dispersing – or at least start them on the way toward it.  I can try to work on a general approach…” 

“And the kid and I can see what we can do to boost the blocking power of your generator,” Buck put in, a smile breaking across his face.  “You boys think this will work?” 

“Not quickly or easily,” Ezra temporized, but he was smiling too.  “But every little bit will help, and if can eventually reduce the size of the mass enough…” 

“…it should break apart,” Chris finished for him, nodding.  “Well, I don’t know about all of you but I’m ready to get out of here and go home.  Let’s call the cops from outside, I don’t really want to get stuck here answering questions if we can help it.”  He herded the other Ghostbusters out ahead of him, pulling out his cell phone as he followed them.  “Gotta remember that guy,” he murmured to himself as he dialed the police.  “Owe him a pat on the back when we see him again.  Looks like he may have fixed things some after all.”


End file.
